For Cajuns, Santa Arrives Via `gator

Christmas Legends Abound In Bayous

DULAC, LA. — When Glen Verret Jr., 3, is asked how Santa will arrive at his house he answers in a single word:

``Alligator.``

It`s Christmas on the bayou, where the moist air is thick with the odor of sugar cane waving along the nearby Grand Caillou, a slow-moving stream that carries shrimpers to the Gulf of Mexico.

Southern Louisiana is a region rich in the unique traditions of the Cajuns, descendents of French settlers driven from Eastern Canada by the British after the French and Indian War-and Christmas is no exception. Elaborate preparations along the swamps and bayous commence early in December. Papier mache snowmen lord over front yards that have rarely-if ever-seen snow. Strings of lights blink across the facades of modest houses, and fireworks will shake the ground on Christmas eve at the stroke of midnight. In Chauvin, Santa rides down Bayou Petit Caillou in a boat parade.

Bonfires light up the bayous to help guide his sleigh through the thick Louisiana fog.

But there is sharp division over the belief that Santa trades in his sleigh for a piroque, the traditional Cajun fishing skiff, pulled along the bayou by a team of friendly alligators.

``Impossible,`` says Sonny Parfait, Dulac`s lone constable, who has seen more than a few Christmases in his time. ``Alligators would pull him right down to the bottom.``

The alligator story was immortalized in the book ``Cajun Night Before Chirstmas,`` a bayou children`s classic illustrated by artist James Rice. But John Luke, proprieter of the Uncle Boy Marina on Bayou Grand Caillou, says the story goes back to the region`s Houma Indians.

``It was the moon,`` said Luke, whose waterfront property is guarded by a gigantic willow draped with Spanish moss. ``They`d look up at the moon, and the shadows looked like a piroque pulled by alligators.``

Matthew Voison, 7, sees the `gator debate in purely practical terms.

``Alligators can`t swim, and reindeer can`t fly,`` Matthew said. He is certain, however, that Santa will take his little brother`s baby bottle from him on Christmas Eve, a family tradition that he experienced himself.

But whether he comes by alligator or reindeer, everyone in Dulac agrees on one thing: As Santa Claus heads back toward the North Pole he passes by again on New Year`s Eve leaving behind oranges, apples and bananas for the children.

In a community where family is everything, Christmas is a special time for celebration with loved ones, although the menu differs in some ways from traditional holiday dinners.

When Renella Trosclair cooks Christmas dinner for her nine children, their spouses and 27 grandchildren, the main course is usually a turkey or ham.

But the aromas of homemade seafood gumbo, sweet potato pie and shrimp dressing will be issuing from her kitchen as well.

Christmas is so important to the devoutly Catholic Cajuns here that even hardships brought on by last summer`s arrival of Hurricane Andrew couldn`t damp their spirits.

``Spiritual preparations for this year deepened,`` said Father Roch Nacquin, pastor of Holy Family Church.

Nacquin, a Louisiana native, said the desire to help those hit hardest by the storm through distribution of food and toys has drawn record numbers of people to the church this year.

Local Christmas legends here don`t stop with children of all ages-even livestock get into the act.

Luke says that at midnight on Christmas Eve his cattle would all kneel around in a circle out in their mossy pasture-just like the animals in the manger at Bethlehem.

``I wouldn`t believe it either,`` he said, leaning over the marina`s scarred wooden bar as Elvis sings ``Blue Christmas`` on the jukebox. ``But I saw it once with my own eyes.``